


Begging for a Beating

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Plug, BDSM, Barebacking, Bondage and Discipline, Bottom Sam, Cock Cages, Dom Dean, M/M, Spanking, Sub Sam, Subspace, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-26
Updated: 2016-10-26
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam is trying his hardest to get on Dean's nerves today. There's only so far Dean is willing to let the insolence go.





	

Dean looked over at Sam at breakfast. His baby brother was on his hands and knees, shoulder blades coming together as he leaned down, carefully pulling a piece of pancake into his mouth.

 

“Is it good, baby boy?” Dean asked, reaching his foot out and nudging Sam’s wrist with his toes. Sam rolled his eyes up, swallowing the food in his mouth.

 

“Yes, big brother, thank you.”

 

Dean nodded and went back to his own meal, drinking in the sight of Sam on the floor. Completely naked, knees spread apart. Though he couldn’t see it, Dean knew his favorite plug was nestled in Sam’s ass, a dark blue that looked so beautiful against the tanned skin. Underneath, rather than the cock ring normally present, Sam’s cock was trapped in a small cage with a padlock, effectively keeping him limp. That morning, Dean had applied the nipple clamps, and he could see the chain hanging down, clinking delicately on the floor each time Sam bent down to eat.

 

Rising from his chair, Dean crouched, stroking his fingers through Sam’s hair. He’d been denied his orgasm for almost twenty-four hours now, and it was starting to show in his body. They’d never scened this long before, but Sam was a determined little shit.

 

“You doing okay, Sammy?”

 

“I’m fine,” Sam muttered, not raising his head. Dean scowled and fisted his hair, tugging his head up.

 

“What was that?”

 

Sam didn’t even bother to hide his eye roll. “I’m fine, Sir,” He mumbled, his voice seething with defiance.

 

Dean’s grip tightened. “Color.”

 

“Green.”

 

“Then what’s wrong?” Sam’s jaw clenched, his eyes rolling up to meet Dean’s, angry kaleidoscope against emerald green.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Sam.”

 

Sam heaved a sigh. “I’m sore, I wanna come, and you won’t let me sit at the table.” Dean’s grip relaxed a little on his hair.

 

“Do you need to safeword, Sam?” He worried, half afraid his brother wouldn’t safeword even if he needed to, if only to make Dean happy. “Don’t be afraid to, I won’t be mad.”

 

“I don’t need to safeword, Dean. I’m fine.”

 

“Sam –“ Dean sighed softly and tugged the key from his jeans, leaning down to unhook the chastity belt.

 

Sam’s hand snapped back, gripping Dean’s wrist tightly. “Don’t,” His voice was firm, and he met Dean’s eyes again.

 

“Sam, I—“ Dean hesitated. “I’m sorry, I gotta break scene, little brother – Red. I don’t know what you need.”

 

Sam’s head tilted, his eyes slitting in curiosity. “You don’t?”

 

“Sam, we’ve never scened this long. I don’t know if this is okay – or what’s going on in that brain of yours. I won’t hurt you, you know that.”

 

Sam leaned up on his knees and wrapped his arms around Dean’s middle, nuzzling against his chest. “I’m okay, De. I promise I am. I’m really enjoying this – We’re good.” He wet his lips and smiled up at Dean. “Just do what you’d normally do – pretend we just started our scene.”

 

Dean’s brows furrowed a moment before it clicked. His lips curled into a smile before tugging Sam’s hair gently. “Finish your breakfast and meet me in the torture chamber.”

 

Sam nodded, dropping back down and leaning down to take another mouthful of food. Dean reached out, palming his ass before rising. He snagged his plate and cup of coffee, wandering into the kitchen.

 

**

 

Nearly twenty minutes later, Sam walked into the torture chamber. Dean turned around from where he was cleaning the leather of the sling hanging from the ceiling. “Excuse me, why are you upright?”

 

Sam looked over at him before sinking to his hands and knees. “Sorry, big brother.”

 

“Sorry? Sammy, you’ve been disobeying me all morning. I think you need to be punished.”

 

Sam hung his head a little farther, sinking toward the floor. “Yes, Sir.”

 

“Get over here and up on the spanking bench, baby boy.”

 

Sam crawled over, rising only to lay himself on the padded sawhorse. He folded his body neatly onto it, laying his forearms and knees on the rests and allowing his bodyweight to balance in his stomach. His cock, still caged but now swollen to the point that the bars were biting into his skin, hung off the edge of the bench.

 

Dean came around, latching Sam’s upper arms and thighs against the bench. He ran the tips of his fingers over Sam’s exposed ass, smirking when goosebumps trailed in their wake. “You’ve been a naughty little boy all day, Sammy.”

 

“I want to come,” Sam said petulantly, barely hiding the smirk from Dean’s stern gaze.

 

“Oh, I think you wanna be spanked, Sammy.”

  
Sam hesitated, then smirked before he began to struggle against his bonds. “Don’t punish me, big brother. I didn’t mean to do anything. I’m so tired and my balls are so full and my ass hurts,” He whined. “Please don’t.”

 

Dean chuckled, rubbing Sam’s lower back. Sam knew he liked it when he put up a fight, even if the tone of his voice was clearly playful.

 

“Oh no, I don’t believe you. You’ve been nearly _begging_ for me to punish you, little bitch.”

 

Sam whimpered. “Please, big brother. I’ll make it up to you. I—I’ll suck your cock and let you do whatever you want to my ass. _Please_.”

 

Dean crouched in front of Sam, meeting his bright eyes. “You’ll suck my cock anyways, Sam. You’re forgetting that you’re mine until that cage comes off your pretty cock.”

 

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Sam’s mouth, nipping his lower lip before pulling back and standing. “Now, how many lashes do you think you deserve, baby boy?”

 

Sam swallowed audibly. “Ten?” He offered in a weak voice.

 

“Oh come on now, you and I both know you deserve more than that.” Dean walked over to a cabinet on the wall, opening it to reveal various torture and sex toys. He reached up, running his fingers gently over their various spanking tools. He reached toward the back and withdrew a broken in belt, folded in half and lashed together with a neat black cord, the buckles removed. He turned it over fondly in his hands, remembering. It was their first toy, fashioned one night in a hotel room out of one of Sam’s old belts. They’d made it together, all kisses and touches, whispers of great nights to come.

 

Dean lifted it in two hands and snapped it together with ease, the crack echoing across the chamber. Sam jumped, a low groan filling the air almost immediately after.

 

“I think twenty-five will do you some good,” Dean whispered, moving back to his spot behind Sam. He let the folded edge of the belt run up Sam’s thigh to his ass, resting it on the small of his back.

 

“Yes, big brother,” Sam panted. Though the cage held his cock in a flaccid state, he was nearly dribbling precome, a thin streak of it running over the black stained oak of the bench.

 

“You keep count for me now, okay?” Dean clarified, gently squeezing Sam’s ass together to warm it up. “I’m gonna do a few starter swats that won’t count.”

 

“Yes, big brother. I’ll count.”

 

Dean leaned down and kissed the small of Sam’s back, right above the split of his perfect, round cheeks.

 

He drew back and brought his hand down lightly, watching Sam’s ass jiggle and pink up where he’d struck. Sam hissed, his body jerking forward on the bench.

 

Dean kneaded the flesh before slapping again, the opposite cheek. He picked up an easy pace then, two quick slaps and a gentle massage, two more, and a massage.

 

Sam was writhing and jerking on the bench within five minutes, his ass a tender pink and his cock positively drooling precome, the cock cage cutting into his shaft as it tried to harden. “Jesus Christ,” He hissed.

 

“What was that?” Dean asked, swatting him again with his bare hand.

 

“Just do it for real already,” Sam said, turning his head as far as he could.

 

“Was that a command, baby brother?” Dean swatted him bare handed again.

 

“You bet your ass it was.”

 

Dean straightened up and snagged the homemade strap from Sam’s back. Sam’s entire body tensed visibly in anticipation, but Dean’s touch was gentle. He dragged the smooth edge of the strip up Sam’s thigh and ass, poking his balls with it. Sam jerked back, muttering under his breath.

 

“What was that?” Dean asked again.

 

“I said stop fucking teasing me,” Sam snarled. “If you’re gonna tease, then you can – Oh fuck!”

 

The first slap shocked Sam, coming down square across both cheeks with some force.

 

There was a moment of tense silence, Sam’s breath coming in quick pants. Dean sighed behind him and brought the belt down again, over his left cheek. It left a bright red streak.

 

“You can start anytime, Sammy,” Dean warned him, and Sam took in a quick breath.

 

“One.”

 

“Good boy,” He said before bringing it down on the other cheek.

 

Sam hissed, his entire body moving forward. “Two.”

 

Over and over, an even, teasing pace, Dean would swat Sam’s ass, pausing every few swats to rub his reddened, welted skin. Sam kept count, his voice becoming increasingly broken as they reached double digits.

 

“Twenty, fuck, big brother, please—“ Sam sobbed.

 

“Gimme your color, Sam.” Dean said, reaching out and rubbing over his now bright red ass, hot to touch.

 

“Green, just—“

 

“Then what are you begging me for?” Dean asked calmly.

 

“I need—I need to come, please.”

 

“No you don’t. You don’t need to do anything but count out your punishment.” Dean swatted him again and Sam gasped out twenty-one.

 

“Please—“

 

 _Swat_. “Twenty-two, fuck, Dean—“ Sam panted, his hips and legs jerking wildly against the restraints.

 

 _Swat_. “Twenty-three.” Sam was crying softly, his cock jerking along with his body as he struggled with his bonds.

 

 _Swat_. “Twe—twenty-four, please big brother, I can’t take it!” He sobbed. Dean rubbed his reddened ass gently.

 

“Sammy, do I need to gag you and add another five swats?”

 

Sam whimpered, the muscles in his shoulders and legs standing out as he struggled to remain still. “No, big brother.”

 

 _Swat_. “Twenty-five.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper, his body slumping against the sweat soaked leather of the spanking bench.

 

Dean dropped the switch and unhooked Sam’s legs and arms, pulling him into his arms. “Hey, you still with me?”

 

“Mhm…” Sam mumbled, mouthing over his pulse.

 

He knew he should push Sam away, scold him for being handsy when he wasn’t given permission – but no. Dean knew what this was. Sam was big on full control of these situations; he’d spent too much time not being in control of his body and mind in their day to day lives. It was these moments, when Sam wasn’t in his own mind – or was too into his own mind – Dean was never clear; these moments are why Sam loved scenes, loved this style of intimacy.

 

So Dean just smiled, half dragging his heavy brother to the mattress in the corner of the chamber. It was covered in warm blankets and, despite being rarely used it was one of Dean's favorite spots. He let Sam stretch out before lying next to him, mouthing along his sweaty neck.

 

"Talk to me, Sammy. You need to come?"

 

“Yeah,” Sam mumbled, his teeth dragging along the tendon in Dean’s neck and shooting sparks down to his aching cock. He reached down, palming himself. “Alright, I’m gonna sit up to unhook your cage.”

 

Sam nodded, curling his arms around Dean’s midsection when Dean sat up, tugging the key off his neck. He carefully unlocked the cage, running his fingers lightly over Sam’s cock as it hardened.

 

“Gorgeous, Sammy,” He whispered, leaning down to lick precome off the purpled tip.

 

Sam mewled, his hips bucking weakly. “Please don’t tease,” His voice was breathy.

 

“I won’t. Lie flat, baby boy.”

 

Sam did as instructed, his eyelids drooping. Dean knew he’d have to do this fast or risk Sam being too unresponsive to come. He slipped between Sam’s thighs, taking a moment to admire how nicely he fit between them.

 

When Sam gave a pathetic whimper, his hips bucking weakly, Dean jumped to action. He pulled his cock out of his jeans and spread an ample amount of lube over it. It was pointless to strip out of his clothes – Sam was nude and that was enough.

 

“Relax,” He warned as he pulled the anal plug from Sam’s ass, earning a soft, low moan.

 

“Shh, now… Look at me, Sammy. Come back to me,” Dean whispered. He remained still until Sam’s eyes landed on his, still hazy but with a bit more clarity.

 

“There’s my baby boy. Relax for me, okay?”

 

Sam nodded, reaching out and setting his hands lightly on Dean’s shoulders. Dean turned his head, nuzzling against Sam’s wrist as he slid into the loosened hole with a barely audible gasp.

 

Sam sighed, his eyes fluttering shut. Dean laid over him, touching and kissing everywhere he could as he thrust into Sam, slow and gentle. As much as he wanted to fuck his little brother's brains out, now was not the time.

 

"Hey, Sammy, kiss me now," Dean commanded, stroking his thumb along Sam's stumbled jaw.

 

Sam tilted his head up, giving Dean a lazy kiss. His hands were curled loosely in Dean's shirt, legs spread wide and without resistance. Even his hole was relaxed, barely clenching around Dean as he withdrew and slipped back in.

 

Dean mouthed down Sam's threat, feeling the slow, steady pulse of his heart. Up, up, up his lips moved, over Sam's earlobe. "Come back to me," He murmured.

 

Sam whimpered, his hole clenching around Dean's cock before he spoke. "Big brother--"

 

"I got you baby boy," Dean assured him, holding him close. "Right here. Feel that Sammy? Big brother's gonna make you feel really nice. Do you need to come, Sam?"

 

Sam whined, letting his hands slide over Dean's back. "Don't know," He managed.

 

"Okay, no problem... Look at me, Sam."

 

Sam's head turned and he tried his hardest to focus on Dean.

 

Dean had to smile, Sam’s gaze kept faltering, eyelids drooping: this was deeper into his head than he'd gotten in a long time. Dean gripped his chin lightly. Letting all humor slide from his face, gave Sam a gentle shake to make him focus. "Sammy, come. Right now. Come on big brother's cock," His voice was stern, commanding, and made Sam melt.

 

This time was no exception. Sam's head lolled back and he groaned Dean's name as he came, soaking their bellies. Dean leaned back, his own cock giving a jerk of approval at the sight below him.

 

Sam's arms were splayed out on the bed, his head tipped back in silence. His cock was on his stomach, an angry purple, jerking and twitching as it dribbled and spat rope after rope onto Sam's heaving stomach.

 

Dean took advantage while he could, thrusting fast and hard into Sam as Sam writhed underneath him, thighs quivering and clenching around his hips. Sam groaned softly, bringing his hand up to stroke Dean’s fingers on his hip. “De—“

 

“I got you, Sammy,” Dean whispered through gritted teeth. He released his hold on Sam’s hip to grab his hand, twining their fingers. “I got you.”

 

Dean drove in twice, three more times before stilling, his entire body breaking out in a fresh sheen of sweat as he came, his eyes locked on Sam’s sleepy, smiling face.

 

He pulled out carefully, shrugging out of his now come covered shirt before stretching out next to Sam. He had to smile when Sam immediately clung to him, face buried in his chest and eyes screwed shut.

 

“Hey, I got you. Come back to me baby,” He whispered.

 

“I’m here.” Sam’s voice was small, muffled against his chest.

 

“Do you need some water?” Dean waited for the barely there nod before shifting a little and leaning over Sam, dragging a bottle of water out of the little box by the mattress. He pulled Sam up and helped him take a long drink before kissing his mouth. “You’re such a good baby brother.”

 

Sam smiled a little, leaning on Dean’s chest. “De?”

 

“What’s up, Sammy?”

 

“I think I’d like a collar.”

 

Dean’s heart stuttered out a rapid jig against his ribs. He’d been asking if he could collar Sam for months now, but Sam had always said no, they didn’t need it – why did he need to prove he was Dean’s.

 

“Really?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah,” He whispered.

 

Dean smiled a little and slid his head down, pressing his lips to Sam’s forehead. “Alright baby boy, we’ll talk about it later. When you’re more you. Sleep now, Sammy.”

 

Sam sighed contentedly, snuggling closer to Dean. He was out cold before Dean could count to five.


End file.
